


can't start again (there ain't no eraser)

by vansunshine (shuantics)



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: (rated teen for language), (side kanej + side helnik), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Meetings, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 03:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuantics/pseuds/vansunshine
Summary: Amsterdam is no New York, but wading through the busy market square can sometimes prove a challenge. Yet, Wylan still hadn't felt the euphoria, the tingles that Nina described to him in depth of when your soulmate utters to you those magic (and in Wylan's case, aggressive) words. And he honestly wondered if he ever will.





	can't start again (there ain't no eraser)

**Author's Note:**

> based off of [this prompt](https://rubyrushha.tumblr.com/post/169018534069/ok-but-soulmate-au-where-person-b-has-fuck-you) by rubyrushha on tumblr
> 
> title taken from write on me by fifth harmony

"Don't scratch it."

Wylan looked up from his book and moved the hand that instinctively clawed at his wrist. "I wasn't– I wasn't scratching at it."

From over the rim of her therapeutics textbook, Nina smiled. "Scratching it out isn't going to change it." She flipped the page with a swipe of her finger. "You're stuck with it."

Wylan unknowingly let out a quiet sigh and perched his elbows on the library desk, dropping his eyes to the page where none of the words had sunken in. "Easy for you to say," he mumbled, bunching his cheek to his fist. "You're not the one with it." He turned to the start of the chapter and began to read again.

It'd been a month, and still, Wylan hadn't gotten over his soul tattoo. It was his eighteenth, and all his friends had gathered for the moment when their favorite redheaded chem major got the mark to make him an adult. When the burning sensation had stopped just past noon, the boy stared at his arm, the room had fallen deadly silent.

"What does it say?" Inej urged, while Wylan had the sudden urge to cry.

When Inej turned eighteen, the ink on her beautifully tanned skin read, "You dropped your bracelet, ma'am. I promise I wasn't trying to steal it." Although confusing, Wylan gushed over the scene when he finally saw that the weird junior Kaz Brekker was the one to hand his friend the beaded bracelet, that he was indeed trying to steal. Inej accepted his offer of coffee anyway.

When Nina turned eighteen, the words, "I didn't mean to stare, you just looked so beautiful." were forever imprinted on her forearm. Wylan fawns as the strongly built, blond bombshell that was Mathias Helvar, the captain of the hockey team, makes his way over to Nina at the bar and whispers those exact words to her. 

Every time it happened, and Wylan saw the black ink glow a bright amber, he felt excitement swell in his gut, dreaming of the day he'd get his own soulmark and be able to fall in love with the One. 

But no. It was his eighteenth and Nina asked, "Wylan? Is everything okay?" just before Wylan really did burst into tears and locked himself in the bathroom, trying for hours to desperately scrub the ink out and hoping it was all just a bad dream.

 

-

 

"You know you're meant to roll your sleeves up when you wash dishes, right, Wylan?"

Wylan didn't know what it was about his roommate, but he sometimes, Kuwei just really gets on his nerves. 

"Thanks," Wylan replied flippantly. (He'd been in a mood for weeks.) "I know." Still, he scrubbed the dishes, long, cuffed sleeves dripping wet in the soapy water.

"Oh." Kuwei dropped his cup into the sink. "Then why are you still washing dishes with your sleeves down?"

"Because it's cold."

"It's summer."

"Get off my ass, Kuwei."

"Are you embarrassed about your soulmark?"

Wylan snapped his eyes up from the pan and grimaces. "How do you know about that?"

"Nina–"

"Of course." He cleaned the cutlery with vigor. "She tells everyone everything."

"She didn't say what it said, just that you're upset about it." Kuwei grabbed a tea towel and goes about to dry the dished. "Besides," he adds. "I asked. There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Wylan. Lot's of people get non-romantic tattoos."

"Oh, yeah." Wylan huffed a red curl from his eyes. "And what does yours say?"

"'Can you shut your mouth, please?'" 

Wylan stopped wearing the paint from the mug and looked at Kuwei. The fellow freshman looked back at him. "Oh," he said, diverting his eyes. "That's not too great."

"It's not." Kuwei shrugged. "Especially since so many people tell me to shut up on a daily basis."

Wylan smiled. "I can sympathize with that."

"What does yours say?"

Wylan hesitated, subconsciously going to brush his fingers over the bumpy ink still on it's way to sinking deep into his skin. Forever. 

"I won't laugh. I promise." 

Even if Kuwei is mildly infuriating with his wealth of never-ending knowledge, Wylan can appreciate the fact that he's bare to the bone.

"It's, 'Why don't you watch where you're fucking going then, half-pint.'"

True to his word, Kuwei didn't laugh, just nodded. "Well, living in the city isn't going to help that."

Wylan gave a low-spirit snort. Amsterdam is no New York, but wading through the busy market square can sometimes prove a challenge. Yet, Wylan still hadn't felt the euphoria, the tingles that Nina described to him in depth of when your soulmate utter to you those magic (and in Wylan's case, aggressive) words. And he honestly wondered if he ever will.

 

-

 

"Oh, you're not  _crying,_ are you?" 

Wylan rubbed the blanket over his hot face and tear-stained cheeks. "No," he lied. "It wasn't even that sad."

Nina took in a long sniff. "Yes, it was."

The credits rolled over the dark screen, slow piano music gliding on top.

"I don't know why we had to watch this kind of film," Matthias complained, albeit with sprinkles of tears in his eyes. "It wasn't even good."

"Yes it was!" protested Nina. Kaz plugged a finger to shield his eardrum. "You guys have no hearts."

"I cried!" Inej countered, taking a tissue that Nina offered. "That was heart-breaking."

"Debateable," replied Kaz.

"He sacrificed himself to save her!" Nina slumped back into the squished couch– that was trying it's best to accommodate five when IKEA had clearly stated three– and sighed. "Boys are so unromantic. Why aren't I dating Inej?"

Wylan lost interest in the conversation as Kaz and Matthias began to object. He played with the threads of his jumper and pondered over the profoundly passionate story that had just unfolded for the last hour-and-forty-minutes. He wondered how astounding it must feel to be on the receiving end of such a grand, intimate gesture, to know that there's someone in the world who cares so much about you to sacrifice a great deal.

That's Wylan's problem, he feels. He's a romantic.  _Too much_ of a romantic. Such a big romantic that it's left him with a little more than not a lot in his love life– his very  _small_ life that is. 

When he was younger, his mother would read him those fantastic fairytales of witches and goblins and the princes that would always save the princess. He suspected his mum wanted him to grow up to be that prince, the dashing young man that could whisk a beautiful girl off her feet. Alas, middle and high school came and eventually college will pass, and Wylan will still be waiting in his ivory tower for his very own knight in shining armor.

Before his eighteenth, Wylan had dreams of how he'd meet his soulmate, and what his soulmark would be. He'd kept all his little fantasies sprawled across the pages of a leather-bound notebook that he tucked under his dormitory floorboard, mortified of the idea of anyone, even Nina or Inej, finding it. His favorite, in particular, was the one where he'd be in the small bookshop in town, browsing the collection of journals and notebooks written by alchemists and scientists, and he'd hear the faint groan of someone from the corner. Curiously, Wylan would peek around and find a boy– what he looked like he hadn't quite theorized yet– sitting at the table, lamenting over the very book Wylan was planning on checking out. He'd catch Wylan's eye and smile, and Wylan would smile too and say, "Interesting book there." and Wylan's soulmate would reply, "I'm sure, but I don't quite understand it. Would you explain it to me?" The two would spend hours and hours tucked in that small bookshop in town, discussing inorganic chemistry and molecular spectroscopy while they gradually fell in love. 

(Writing it, Wylan would bury his face in his pillow and blush.)

However, the ink had truly settled and Wylan glanced at his arm as a romance war waged around him.  _Why don't you watch where you're fucking going then, half-pint._ Knowing that, Wylan was going to fall in love with a mean-spirited, loud-mouthed, _tall_ guy, and be forced to fall in love with him against his will. 

No, it can't happen like that. He  _can't_ not have his prince! Maybe it was a mistake. Would God be as cruel as to banish Wylan to a life without finding a soulmate that he loves? 

He tutted at the thought bitterly and pushed himself off the couch in search of a much needed, strong drink.

 

-

 

"Good morning, Inej. Good morning, half-pint."

If he weren't scared of the massive man, Wylan would've dropped his introductory maths book on the giant's head.

"Matthias," Nina scolded lightly, slapping the hunk on the chest. "Don't be mean."

Kaz and Inej joined the friends at their table, spreading the latter's theatre project over their edge of wood. "What are we talking about?"

"How Wylan hasn't grown since he was twelve."

Nina delivered a sharper smack to Matthias' chest but smiled up at him lovingly nonetheless. Wylan felt like his pastry might've re-emerged.

"Well, you know what, Bigfoot, at least my head is clear from being taken off by ceiling fans," he shot back, wanting to sink further into his text and maybe further into the ground. (Note to self: don't ask Nina Zenik to keep a secret. Ever. He's not heard the last of it from Kuwei's equally as annoying biochem gang.)

"Is this about his tattoo?" Kaz, partial to a book beating himself, asked, and Wylan rolled his eyes so far he could see France.  _We're not all as lucky as to have, "I trust you." permanently inked on our skins._

"Well, we don't need to talk about now," Inej interjected, just as Matthias goes to guff another joke. "It's too early."

As they all took turns to slip silently into their work, Wylan tapped on his phone underneath the table, Google up and presenting the first results to Wylan's cry of 'soul mark removal surgery???'

 

-

 

"Where are you? The presentation starts in five!"

"I'm almost there!" Wylan lied.

His lab partner let out a dejected sigh, still being able to hear the cars whirl past Wylan on the busy main road. "You're here in four and a half, or I'm doing it alone."

There's still bacon in Wylan's teeth as he shoved his phone back into his satchel and picked his power walk into a light jog. He used his otherwise cursed stature well and dodged his way along the high street, making speed towards the university campus. He's a fifteen-minute walk away from the sciences building, one that he can make in eight if he continues this swift bounce. His phone buzzed in the bottom of his bag, groaning as he diverted his eyes to rummage through it again. 

 _The group before us is having tech problems,_ the text reads.  _We're up–_

_Thud!_

The wind is knocked from Wylan as he slams into the concrete with a bone-crushing thump, the weight of another body on top of him. 

"Jesus Christ!" a smooth albeit disgruntled voice hollered. "Are you kidding me!?" 

Around them, litters of white paper and pens are picked up by the wind, blowing and rolling everywhere as the body squeezing the life from Wylan lifted itself and scrambled to collect the mess. 

The air rushed back to him, and Wylan sat on his knees to inhale before gasping, "I'm sorry!" He helplessly reached out to secure some loose sheets. "I didn't see you, I'm so sorry!"

Wylan got his first look at the man he inconvenienced then, and couldn't tell if it was him or the strain on his ribs that caused the breathlessness. 

The stranger had skin the color mocha, a Godly shaped face, and lips a contrasting soft. His dark eyes were buried with a frown and his nose scrunched in a scowl that Wylan would consider scary if he weren't so suddenly star-struck by the beauty of a man. He looked around annoyed, messily crunching the papers into a disorganized pile. "Why don't you watch where you're fucking going then, half-pint."

The words were stained with such aggression that they almost went over Wylan's head. Almost. 

He froze, hand hovering over a discarded pen before the stranger could snatch it, and turned his gaze up.  _"You!"_ he snarled.

The stranger frowned impossibly deeper. "Me?" he repeated, Wylan noticing an inticing drawl on his letters that he put aside in exchange for the flooding thoughts of  _this is him. Holy, shit it's_ him.

Wylan expected elation when he met his soulmate, but all he felt was fury.

He tossed the pens at the man and stood.  _"OH!"_ he began. "So,  _YOU'RE_ the motherfucker who gave me the worst soulmark in the entire world!" Wylan took a deep breath, unsure of where everything was coming from. "I am  _NEVER_ letting this go, do you have _ANY IDEA_ how  _T_ _ERRIBLE_ it is to wait eighteen years and get something like _that_ tattooed on your body  _permanently!?_ Do you know how much I've been made fun of for the last year?! LOT'S! JESUS CHRIST, YOU ARE THE WORST AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE!"

Wylan was red in the face, panting and positively furious with whoever this tall, handsome stranger was, who now had also stood and was looking and him perplexed.

"Well," he said after a moment, all to calmly and having probably waited to ensure Wylan wasn't going to bite off his head further. "Imagine having  _that_ fucking essay as your soulmark." He unbuttoned his sleeve and pushed it up, revealing the same lengthy, all capitals paragraph along his forearm, glowing amber.

Wylan stopped. He stared at the ink and then to the face of the stranger. "Oh..." he started, opening his mouth then closing it again. "...Oh." Because underneath the sudden shock and anger of thinking  _this is the guy who gave me the worst soulmark in the world,_ Wylan had neglected the fact that  _this. Is. Him._

This is Wylan's soulmate, this is Wylan's prince that's going to sweep him off his feet, and gradually, Wylan felt the anger fizzle under his skin until it faded to nothing.

"Yeah," the stanger– Wylan's  _soulmate_ – said. "Oh is right."

Wylan didn't know what to do with himself. He looked at the floor and saw the pens scattered, quickly diving to pick them back up. He flushed red from embarrassment this time. "Uh..."

"What's your name?"

Wylan looked up to see the man's features had softened and felt his face flood with heat for the third time in a too-short period. He looked gentle, calming, inviting, a total one-eighty on the scowling man that had almost crushed his ribs, and wore the kind of bright smile a proud knight would wear when he rescued his princess– prince, in this case. "Wylan," he answered, and was met with a wider smile. "Wylan Van Eck."

"My name is Jesper," his soulmate said. "Jesper Fahey." (Wylan already felt it sit comfortably on his tongue.) "If you would mind giving me my pens, I would gladly write down my number for you." Looking at Jesper, Wylan felt awash with a brilliant feeling, like he'd just stepped into the sun for the first time in forever. He retracted back to being shy, mousy Wylan in the face of an idol, ready to be swept off his by a handsome prince, He swallowed and nodded, handing Jesper back his pens. Is this what it was meant to feel like?

Swiftly, Jesper caught Wylan's wrist in his large hands and pulled him closer. Wylan felt the rush of skin contact, how it seemed to prick below the surface and unleash tingles all the way up his arms, making his soulmark sing in a euphoric sensation.

This is totally what it's meant to feel like.

Jesper scribbled his number onto Wylan's palm and closed his fingers for him with an all too smooth wink. "When you've finished rushing to where you should be, give me a call." And with that, he began to stride away, taking with it what seemed like every ounce of negativity Wylan had ever felt.

He held his hand to his chest, and grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> me: exams are the most important thing right now, i really need to concentrate--  
> also, me: [re-reads soc and ck starts 89373 new fics for wesper + ninej]
> 
> anyway thx for reading hope you enjoy pls hmu on tumblr/twitter if u wanna <3
> 
> tumblr @mangosbane  
> twitter @shuantics


End file.
